


The Rash

by CavannaRose



Series: Dragon Age Stories [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair is an adorable dork, Awkward Kissing, F/M, Fluff, Illness, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Alistair panics over little things.





	The Rash

Denerim had been hell, but Mahariel had anticipated that. Too many humans in too tight a space, with the other races scattered around, trying to live on the scraps scattered in the dust. Even when the clans came together in the Dales, there weren't this many bodies packed into the same place. Just the stench, the jostling... it left a sour taste in her mouth, and she wasn't skilled enough to keep it from her face. After a particularly hirsute gentleman leaned into her personal space, the woman felt her hand settling defensively against her sword. Stepping forward she grabbed the edged plate of Alistair's armor.

"I need out of here. Now." Signalling to Wynne and Morrigan, the ragtag band left the city, drawing a fair bit of attention as they did so. Mahariel didn't release her blade until the buildings began to blur in the distance.

Finally relaxing a bit, the elven woman scratched at a red patch on her arm, frowning in discomfort. If some foul cretin left a disease clinging to her skin, she was going to head back to Denerim and burn the cesspit to the ground. Laughing, Wynne reached out, clasping Mahariel's hands in her own so the younger female couldn't scratch. "If you fuss with it, it could get worse. Just leave it be."

~~*~~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

They woke slowly, side by side as the first light of dawn illuminated the eastern side of the tent. Alistair rolled onto his side, admiring the scarred side of his lover's face. How could it be, that he would find such happiness in the face of all the misery that life kept shoveling at him? The Warden shifted, still sleeping, one hand scratching along the side of her thigh. Frowning, the blond Ferelden lifted the blanket, horrified at what he saw beneath.

The beautiful expanse of thigh and hip that he saw even in his dreams was covered in angry, red welts. The Warden awoke, her eyes narrowed in confusion as she sat up, scratching at her leg with both hands. "What... What is this?" Alistair panicked. Was this something he did? Was she sick? Would she die? He scooped up the curvy Dalish elf and ran from the tent. "WYNNE! MAHARIEL IS SICK! WYNNE! WAKE UP!!"

With protests coming from most of the tents, and also the alarmingly naked female in his arms, Alistair stopped, suddenly unsure what to do. Thankfully Wynne emerged from her tent, her facial expression distinctly reminiscent of Morrigan's. Yeah... he definitely went about this wrong. He could see Sten emerging from his tent, the Qunari's customary scowl so much darker. Alistair flushed with embarrassment, but dang it he was worried.

Mahariel maneuvered herself out of his arms, tucking her blanket tight against the early morning damp. "Though he is a touch... overzealous in his solicitation. Would you mind stepping into my tent and checking this out for me, Wynne?" The two women disappeared into the tent just as Leliana emerged, her red hair mussed adorably from sleep. Seeing that the ruckus was simply some nonsense of the blond one, Sten headed out to scout for firewood while the bard gathered items to begin making breakfast.

Wynne examined the rash, face solemn. "To be honest, my friend, I do not recognize this particular illness, and would not risk attempting too much for fear of making it worse. If you were willing to return to Denerim..." Catching the darkness on the Warden's face, the mage laughed and shook her head. "I thought not, for now a compress of elfroot should aid with the itching. Perhaps when we reach your people the Keeper will have an idea."

Nodding, Mahariel began pulling on her leathers. "Thank you Wynne. I suppose you can let Alistair back in so I can reassure the silly pup." Despite the harshness of her words, the elf's tone was gentle and her face was alight with affection. Wynne hesitated.

"I know it's not entirely my place... but your relationship with the other Warden..." Wynne could feel the weight of her friend's disapproval, but felt compelled to go on. "You're quite taken with one another, aren't you?" The elf stared blankly back at the mage, a twitch at the corner of her vallaslin the only indication of her mental state. That and the fact she had paused in her dressing. Sighing, the older woman shook her head. "Just be careful. You both have heavy responsibilities, and I would hate to see either of you hurt because of that." The stony faced Dalish watched as her mentor left the tent, not returning to her task until the woman was gone.

Alistair burst back into the tent, no consideration for her state of undress, all concern and sunshine. Mahariel shook her head, letting the bad mood fade away as he paused, arms open. "Is it contagious? Is it bad? Can I hug you?" Standing, wondering if she would ever get dressed this morning, the woman stepped into her lover's arms, wrapping her own around his neck and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He turned during the quick smooch, catching her lips hesitantly with his own, lightly prodding at her sealed mouth with his tongue, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss. Though she knew the others were all waking up, and breakfast would soon be ready, she also understood he needed the comfort, her poor, panicky pup. She opened to him, tangling her tongue with his before they both pulled away laughing. Alistair blushed bright red again. "The Crow says that people like that, but I'm not sure I find it that sexy."

The Dalish Warden leaned against her partner, tugging on a long boot, her own face flushed. "You know, I'm not entirely sure either, love." The pair of them emerged from the tent together, both blushing and giggling, the concerning rash forgotten for the moment. The pair headed over to help Leliana finish dispersing breakfast to their varied group of companions, brightening at the bard's cheerful greeting.


End file.
